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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072326">Fortune's Favor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/imatrisarahtops/pseuds/imatrisarahtops'>imatrisarahtops</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Components: V, S, M [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Caleb Widogast's Backstory, Empire Siblings - Freeform, Episode 98, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Second Chances, Self-Loathing Caleb Widogast, Spoilers, Voice of Reason Beauregard Lionett, brief mentions of Astrid and Eodwulf, episode 97</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:21:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/imatrisarahtops/pseuds/imatrisarahtops</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She pauses in a way that Caleb knows means she has more to say, and he glances back at her, watches her collect her thoughts, watches her ready herself for the next thing she’s going to say.  She heaves out a heavy sigh, shoulders rising and falling as she does so, brow pinched as she considers her words.</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>“Which is why… I know you don’t mean what you said about Essek.”</i></p>
<p>  <i>The name itself is like a punch to the gut, and Caleb clenches his jaw at it and breathes in deeply through his nose, as though it might ease the associated pain.  He feels his whole body stiffen, feels the way his fingers tighten reflexively around his cup, feels his shoulders draw in.</i></p>
<p><i>He knows Beau can see it.  He </i>hates<i> how transparent he is being.</i></p>
<hr/>
<p>Beau and Caleb talk about second chances.  Takes place during Ep98.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beauregard Lionett &amp; Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss &amp; Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein &amp; Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein &amp; Essek Thelyss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Components: V, S, M [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>288</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fortune's Favor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've seen a lot of concern over Essek and Caleb's relationship, and I tried to give my thoughts in this.  Because to me, Caleb is <i>hurting</i>.  Sure, he means what he said about using Essek.  But he's said the same thing about using the Nein.  He is hurting, and he is seeing someone so much like himself, seeing exactly what he could have become.  He has gone from seeing all the best ways they are alike to all of the worst.  But that doesn't change that he has offered Essek a second chance.  And I don't believe he'll take that back, even if he might want to right now because he thinks it would hurt less.  It's just up to Essek to make that next move.</p>
<p>I do think things will get better.  I have hope for them.  But it <i>will</i> take time.</p>
<p>Anyway.  On to the fic!</p>
<hr/>

<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/>
    <i>When the day has come, but I've lost my way around,</i>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>And the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground,</i>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>
    <i>When the sky turns gray and everything is screaming...</i>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p> <i>I will reach inside, just to find my heart is beating.</i><br/></p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p>- "Bleeding Out" by Imagine Dragons</p>
</div>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Some time later, Beau comes back to Caleb with a second cup of tea.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Beauregard,” he says quietly, taking the cup and letting the warmth seep through his fingers.  The clouds on the horizon are still distant enough that they know the rain won’t start for a while yet, but they’re close enough for the air to have a certain chill to it, out on the open water.</p>
<p>Beau grunts in response, taking a sip of her own tea as she leans against the rail, mirroring Caleb.</p>
<p>He knows all to well that she has something to say, can read it in every inch of her body, from the way she holds herself to the expression on her face.  He gives her time, but he doesn’t have to wait long before she squares her shoulders, still looking out to the water.</p>
<p>“You and Fjord seemed like you were deep in conversation,” she says after a moment, and he thinks she’s perhaps trying a <em>little </em>too hard to sound nonchalant.  “Must have been talking about some important shit.”</p>
<p>Somehow, Caleb isn’t all that surprised that this is what she says.  He sighs, glancing down into the depths of his mug, swirling around the contents for a moment.  “Yes, well,” he says thoughtfully, words considered carefully and tone measured.  “I suppose I had a few answers to offer him, in regard to some long-forgotten questions he’d asked.”</p>
<p>Beau glances at him, brow furrowed, and he knows he shouldn’t have even considered that she might let him go with such a simple, flippant explanation.</p>
<p>“I told him the truth about my past,” he continues, looking down.</p>
<p>“Ah,” Beau murmurs, nodding in understanding.  “And which <em>truth</em> did you tell him?” she asks then, a hint of accusation to her tone.</p>
<p>He furrows his brow as he looks at her.  “The same one that I told you and—and Veth, back in Zadash—“</p>
<p>“But I’m guessing you left out the part about being manipulated and the fake memories?” she presses on, and Caleb’s jaw snaps closed. She seems grimly satisfied, taking his silence for affirmation.  She shakes her head.  “Why do you insist on continuing to punish yourself for this?” she asks then, her voice low; he knows she’s attempting to be soothing, but it still comes out a little too harsh, and little too sharp.</p>
<p>“The same reason you were ready to punish yourself with your offering to Isharnai,” Caleb bites out.  He watches as it is Beau’s turn now to be silenced by words that perhaps should be offered more gently—but they’re both tired and exhausted in ways that have nothing to do with physical exertion; they’ve both been so closed off since the night of the party.  Caleb has seen it—recognizes it because he knows he is doing the same—that despite acting as though nothing has truly changed, her mind is working a mile a minute to slowly process everything, to reevaluate every small action in the past, every word that was ever spoken—trying to sift out the lies from the truths and where it all bled together.</p>
<p>That’s not an excuse, though.  He sighs, running a hand over his face, his jawline rough with stubble already, just from their short time at sea.</p>
<p>“We think we are undeserving of <em>this</em>,” he continues, softer, kinder than before, a hint of apology but also desperation in the words.  He knows he doesn’t have to explain what he means by <em>‘this’, </em>knows that Beauregard understands the meaning.  “We think that, despite their arguments, they would still be better off without us.”   He can spot the self-loathing she carries, even though its buried deep, because he is so familiar with it.  And just as he wants to argue the same, to tell her and show her and <em>prove</em> to her how much better they are all with her—<em>how</em> <em>he is better with her</em>—but he knows that will not win the battle within her, and she must continue to fight it for herself.</p>
<p>The words end up sticking in his throat for a moment, and he shakes his head, one corner of his mouth tilting up into a sad smile as he glances down at the sea.  “We are both just waiting for all of this to come to an end.”  He looks back to Beau.  “I think the both of us want to hold on to it as long as we can, though, <em>ja</em>?”</p>
<p>Beau gives sigh and a nod, then raises her tea to her lips again.  “You’re not the monster you think you are, Caleb,” she says.  “I’m assuming that Fjord doesn’t think so either, after what you told him, or he’d have just thrown you off the ship.”</p>
<p>The idea earns a small breath of a laugh from him, a small sound falling through his lips that has Beau smiling briefly.  “Not a difficult feat, exactly,” he allows.</p>
<p>“Even if he did, it’s not like any of us would let your drown,” she adds.  “For all Nott—<em>Veth </em>says, I bet that if she knew you were in danger, she’d be the first to jump ship.”</p>
<p>A small swell of affection warms his chest at the mention of his no-longer-goblin companion, even while he can’t help but fleetingly worry over the idea of her trying to venture off into the sea to save him.</p>
<p>“You are good, Caleb,” she says.  “We’ve all said it.  <em>You</em> even said it when you told Caduceus that you’re not looking for vengeance, but trying to stop any more kids from getting hurt the way the Empire hurt you.  When you first told us about everything, that night in Zadash, you said you wanted <em>power</em>—“</p>
<p>“And you told me quite adamantly that I didn’t,” Caleb recalls.</p>
<p>She nods.  “You wanted to hurt the people that hurt you,” she says.  “Believe me, I get that.  But… but now you’re able to make the distinction that you don’t just want them to suffer, you want to make sure that they are stopped, that they can’t keep doing what they have been to hurt more people.  <em>That</em><em>’</em><em>s </em>being<em> good, </em>Caleb.”</p>
<p>She pauses in a way that Caleb knows means she has more to say, and he glances back at her, watches her collect her thoughts, watches her ready herself for the next thing she’s going to say.  She heaves out a heavy sigh, shoulders rising and falling as she does so, brow pinched as she considers her words.</p>
<p>“Which is why… I know you don’t mean what you said about Essek.”</p>
<p>The name itself is like a punch to the gut, and Caleb clenches his jaw at it and breathes in deeply through his nose, as though it might ease the associated pain.  He feels his whole body stiffen, feels the way his fingers tighten reflexively around his cup, feels his shoulders draw in.</p>
<p>He knows Beau can see it.  He <em>hates</em> how transparent he is being.</p>
<p>“Which part?” he asks, and he tries to keep his voice level—neutral—<em>calm</em>.  He tries not to let anything else bleed through.</p>
<p>“About not trusting him,” she says.  “About using him.”</p>
<p>Caleb lets out a dark, mirthless laugh.  “I have no trouble with using people, Beauregard,” he says gravely.  “I set out with the intention of using all of you. Even in the beginning, the plan was to use him to learn spells.  And as for trust—I don’t trust him.  Maybe I had.  But as I said, I can easily see now how similar we are, and knowing myself, I would not trust anyone who is capable of the things I am—of the things he is.”</p>
<p>The words are cold and taste bitter on his tongue.  He desperately wants to bid her goodnight and retreat to his bunk, to brood in quiet over what a fool he has been.  Saying it out loud makes everything more real, more painful, more <em>immediate</em>, and he just wants to ignore it for as long as he can, to pretend, to—to…</p>
<p>“Don’t get me wrong,” Beau says.  “I don’t exactly trust him, either.  I know enough from my own training to know the shit he’s tangled in.  But…”  She frowns, looking up at the sky, then back down to the sea, before finally letting her gaze fall on Caleb again.  “But I think he meant it.  About wanting to make things better.”</p>
<p>“Yes, well, that will be seen,” Caleb says flatly.</p>
<p>“You don’t want to use him, Caleb,” Beau sighs.  “You don’t want to see him hurt, not in the way that we both know he will be.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t aware you were such an expert on the things I want, Beauregard,” he responds coolly.</p>
<p>“Well, if you’re not going to be honest with yourself, someone has to do it for you,” she tells him.</p>
<p>He wants to laugh.  He wants to laugh the same way he had when she first told him he wasn’t to blame for what he did all those years ago, for becoming a murderer at the age of seventeen.  He wants to laugh because there’s no other way he knows how to respond, because the idea of what she’s saying is ludicrous, but instead he swallows it down, throat dry and tongue sour.</p>
<p>“How would you rather I act, then?” he demands instead.  “Would you like me to offer forgiveness as quickly and as thoughtlessly as Caduceus?  Or call him our friend as easily as Jester?  Or—or welcome him to our ranks like Veth?”  His hands tremble a little as he asks her each question, a dull ache in his chest.  “Hm?  Tell me, Beauregard, since you seem so keen on telling me what I <em>really want</em>.”</p>
<p>Beauregard straightens, leveling him with a steady gaze, one that shuts him up because it’s <em>that gaze</em>—the one that tells him she really does know him in a way the others—even Veth—don’t.  She turns, leaning her back against the rail of the ship, folding her arms across her chest, her empty cup still in one hand.  “Jester is right,” she says slowly.  “He is our friend.  He <em>is</em>,” she insists, even at the look on Caleb’s face.  “Whether or not we trust him, whether or not we forgive him, he still is very much our friend.  Which is why all of us are so hurt by what he did.  And yeah, he did it before he knew any of us.  But it still fucking <em>hurts</em>.  But he’s still our friend and that why <em>all of us </em>want to see him do better.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t respond, and she slides a little bit closer to him.  He doesn’t look up at her, but she’s clearer in his peripheral, still watching him.</p>
<p>“I know I don’t get all your—your magic stuff, especially the dunamagic, whatever it’s called,” she continues.  “But I’m smart enough to make connections, to see things.  That kiss,” she says, and his heart lurches at the memory, “was like the one he taught you.  The second chance one.  You offered him that second chance before any of us could.  And you know, you’re the one he needed it from.”</p>
<p>Caleb wants to argue, but how can he?  That evening has been replaying on a loop in his brain ever since, repeating itself over and over again.  He knows exactly what he said to Essek.  He knows how he said it, with hand on his jaw to force him to look at him, touch gentle and reassuring, and can recall the warmth of his skin under his fingertips.  He knows, too, the weight his words carried, the fire of passion with which they burned, desperate to convince him. He knows, he knows, he <em>knows…</em></p>
<p>He knows, and it <em>hurts</em>.</p>
<p>“I’ve admitted already I was a fool,” he mutters.  “I was the one who refused to trust him from the start, determined to use him for my own gain.  And it was fair, because we were using each other.”  He shakes his head.  “And then suddenly I found that I <em>did </em>trust him.  Even when you all had your reserves, I <em>trusted him</em>, and—and we are so alike, Beauregard,” he says, and he knows he’s doing a poor job at masking the pain.  “He and I, we are so, <em>so alike</em>.  And that itself should have been a sign.  I should have <em>known.  </em>I thought it was his devotion to his country which we had to be concerned about, thought that he might have become what I would have, had I finished my training at the Academy.  I never thought…”  He trails off.  “But I should have.  I should have known, because the threat was never a blind allegiance to one’s country, but the threat was the desperate strive for <em>knowledge</em>, and of <em>course </em>it would be the Assembly, <em>of course</em>…”</p>
<p>“We couldn’t have known,” Beauregard assures him, and this time, her voice is almost successful in its attempt gentleness, low and calming.  “None of us could have.  And I get wanting to blame yourself for it—I feel like I should have figured it out from the things I was taught, too.  But we didn’t.  We wanted to believe the best of him.”</p>
<p><em>Such is the nature of friends</em>, he thinks bitterly, but he can’t bring himself to say it.</p>
<p>“I was worried when we found out,” she admits with a sigh, and he glances up at her.  “I knew…”  She shifts in her spot, one foot to her other, looking down.  “I knew Jester would bounce back.  She always does.  Caduceus does in his own weird way, too.  And Veth, you know—she and Fjord and Yasha… they’d all be fine.”  She looks back to him, meeting his gaze.  “I was worried how you’d feel.  I knew you two—connected, in your weird way over books and spells and shit.  I said before, you two are always so close when you talk, it’s like—like the two of you just <em>got it </em>in a way we didn’t.  And you know…”  She offers him a sad, apologetic smile.  “I liked it.  You seemed happy, man.  I know you love all of us, even if you don’t say it.  But with Essek, you were different.”</p>
<p>Despite himself, he allows a small somber smile that mirrors Beau’s.  “I suppose… he reminded me of what I did love about the Academy,” he says, soft, like a confession.  “He’s brilliant, you know.”  He shakes his head.  “I told you about my friends, back then.  It felt like that, sometimes—back before things changed.  When we would study spells and experiment with them, <em>hungry</em> for knowledge, just wanting to <em>learn</em>.  He has that spark—a spark that reminded me of Astrid, at times.”</p>
<p>“Astrid?” Beau asks.  “Not… not your other friend, E—Eod—“</p>
<p>“Eodwulf?” he finishes.  “No.  Eodwulf was—<em>is</em> talented.  But Astrid’s magic, her ambition…”</p>
<p>He trails off, letting the rest of his thought fall into the depths of the sea.  The pain isn’t as strong there, not anymore, but it’s still a distant ache beneath his ribs—he still mourns the loss of Astrid and Eodwulf both, even though he has seen for himself that they are both still alive; he knows the children they were have been completely erased from history, that the both of them have been molded into something beyond recognition—knows that the same can be said for himself.</p>
<p>It takes a moment, but he realizes that Beau has been quiet for some time now, and he glances up at her.  He sees her brow furrowed in thought, and he straightens a little, frowning.</p>
<p>“What?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Huh?”  She looks up at him, blinking—then shakes her head.  “No, uh… No, it’s nothing,” she tells him, awkwardly stumbling over the words.  He quirks a brow at her, and she sighs.  “Just, uh… <em>interesting </em>that you compared Essek to… to, you know, Astrid, as opposed to, uh…”  She clears her throat, glancing away.</p>
<p>“<em>Was</em>?” he inquires.  “Why—“  He breaks off as his brain makes the leap, and his brow pinches as he all but glares at her.  “Beauregard, <em>no</em>.  This—<em>no</em>.”</p>
<p>“It’s cool, man,” she says quickly, shrugging her shoulders.  “I’m not one to judge.”</p>
<p>He sighs, bringing a hand to his face.</p>
<p>“No,” he tells her again.  The word is quiet, but cold and firm.  He knows it leaves no room for argument.</p>
<p>He thinks, though, briefly, that it also sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.</p>
<p>He had wondered, after all.  He had fleetingly toyed with the idea a few times, had considered it.  He couldn’t deny that Essek was handsome, after all, and he’d just admitted to seeing that attractive spark within him, that lovely flowing magic and unquenchable thirst for knowledge, deep in his veins.  And as Beau had said, they’d <em>connected—</em>two of the same mind, understanding each other so deeply, working together so seamlessly—</p>
<p>He has thought several times now, since overhearing them on the ship, since returning Veth to her body, since the night at the party, that he would so much like to just go back to that moment in Essek’s laboratory, working over the spell, looking at equations and sigils and the endless notes of Halas… to just go back to when the heaviest weight was the need to succeed for Veth’s sake, and nothing more.  It had felt simple, it had felt freeing, it had felt exhilarating, it had felt beautiful…</p>
<p>It had felt <em>right</em>.</p>
<p>“No,” he whispers.  Because none of it mattered, now.  Any thoughts he had about what could be once there was peace were gone.  A seed had been planted, and he had almost considered that, with time, with the same love and care that Caduceus gave his garden, maybe something else would sprout, that it would grow into something more, something natural and organic and lovely.</p>
<p>He’d been just as much a fool for thinking that.</p>
<p>Beau, to her credit, doesn’t argue.  He’s pretty sure the sadness in her eyes might be considered pity, and he tries to write it off.  He doesn’t need her thinking that on top of it, he’s had his heart broken, or something else equally as silly.  He hasn’t.  He didn’t love Essek.</p>
<p>But he thinks that maybe, just <em>maybe</em>, he could have.</p>
<p>“I hope,” Beau says after a moment, quiet, her words almost swallowed by the sound of waves crashing against the side of the ship.  “I hope he’s telling the truth,” she says, and she looks up at the sky, at the clouds encroaching on the deep blue, darkening it with the approach of nightfall.  “I hope that he shows us we can trust him, after all.”</p>
<p>Caleb hopes, too, but he doesn’t say it.</p>
<p>“He won’t,” he says instead.  “Even if he wants to.  The Assembly will rip him to shreds, first.”</p>
<p>“I hope you’re wrong,” Beau sighs.</p>
<p>Again, Caleb hopes he is, too.</p>
<p>She looks at him.  “Do you think he’d go back and change it?” she asks.</p>
<p><em>No</em>.  <em>Yes</em>.  Both sides wage war in his head.  He wants to believe in what Essek had said about their friendship, how they hadn’t been part of the plan, but still, he knows that Essek has gained as much as he lost, finding just a few of those answers to the questions he’d had about the Beacons.</p>
<p>The truth is, he doesn’t know.  As much as he’d liked Essek—as much as they <em>all </em>had—none of them <em>really</em> knew him.  For a moment, though it feels so long ago now, he had thought that maybe they’d all get that opportunity to learn him after he’d come to the Xhorhaus for dinner—but just as quickly as that had come, now that idea was gone as well.  The truth is he has no <em>idea </em>what Essek might be thinking.</p>
<p>Beau asked him because they’re similar.  But Caleb doesn’t know how he would answer the question, either—not if he were still in that dark, hopeless place that Essek is.</p>
<p>Maybe that is part of why it all hurts so much, too.</p>
<p>“It’s a moment in the past, Beauregard,” he says bitterly, casting all of the thoughts away, deciding he doesn’t <em>want </em>to think about it anymore, to try to fathom Essek out when it just keeps leading to this vicious cycle of thoughts, this spiraling downwards, this <em>pain</em>.  “It can’t be changed."</p>
<p>She regards him carefully for a moment, but the look of sadness is gone, replaced with a look of thoughtfulness, of approval.  “That’s the second time you’ve said something like that to me, you know,” she tells him.  “About not changing the past.”  He looks up at her.  “I wonder if you can see the significance of that.”</p>
<p>He scoffs.  “You are reading too much into it.”</p>
<p>But she shakes her head.  “No, I don’t think I am,” she says.  “A man who was obsessed with time, wanting to go back and rewrite history to right his wrongs… and now he's telling me that the past can’t be changed?  I think I’m reading into it exactly how I should be.”  He doesn’t respond, just lowers his head again.  “It’s like you said to Essek, you know?  About it not being about redemption, about how we have to leave each place better than we found it, just like… like Molly told us.”  She takes a deep, steadying breath.  “You’ve changed, Caleb.  You’ve shown us how you don’t want to burn your enemies to the ground, but you want to stop them from hurting anybody else.  According to what you said to Essek, <em>we</em> did that to you.  And if you’re right, if we helped… then I really hope you don’t give up on him, the same way we didn’t give up on you.  Because if you think we changed you, if you think we made you better, then you can do the same for him.”  She rests a hand on his shoulder.  “Don’t offer him a second chance and then take it back.  Don’t give up on him. I think... maybe you both need this chance.”</p>
<p>She pats his shoulder, then pushes off from the rail, leaving him alone.</p>
<p>He looks down at his tea, which has long gone cold.</p>
<p>The ache is still in his chest.  It feels bottomless—deep and dark and unknown, just like the ocean.  But he knows too that there is an end to its seemingly fathomless depths, even if he can’t see it, even if it feels never-ending, and the same can probably be said for this.</p>
<p>In the pouch on his belt, there is a pearl Veth had given him, back when she was still Nott, from one of the rings they’d found on Kylre; it’s the pearl he uses first and foremost to <em>identify</em>, but since has found its second purpose, a component for another spell.</p>
<p>He clenches his fingers, raising his hand so that his fist gently rests against his forehead, just between his eyebrows.  He closes his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.</p>
<p>He thinks about second chances.</p>
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